


Teach Me How Not To Need

by zjofierose



Series: Full Moon Fic(let)s [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's good for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me How Not To Need

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for non-graphic but pervasive description of disordered eating. Practice safe reading!

Derek's good for him.

He knows not everyone gets it, remembers how, at first, pretty much everyone gave them the hairy eyeball, but he didn't care then, and he sure as fuck doesn't care now. They've been together two and a half years, and they're good for each other. And sure, they're mutual beneficiaries, but.

Derek's good for him.

\--

He's not sure when Derek figured it out; hell, he's not even really sure when _he_ figured it out himself, not really, but he knows Derek wasn't too far behind. It was just... some point between everyone he knew becoming supernaturally ripped, and the third time he got a long, ugly scar that really isn't ever going to go away. Probably the _nogitsune_ played into it too, questions of identity and ownership and control, all that bullshit psychological theory that's a bit more accurate than anyone wants to admit. But really, at the bottom of it, he thinks it was just the stress, at first, probably in combo with his meds. He had started kinda felt queasy a lot, and they were always dashing from one emergency to another, chasing a baddie, or saving a life, or finding some mutilated corpse that would put him off his feed for a week. He made sure his dad ate healthy, but it was easy to forget about dinner when he was running out the door with his baseball bat, when he wasn't really hungry anyway.

Besides, he's always worn layers, since junior high anyway, and he doesn't own a full-length mirror. It might sound stupid, but he really didn't even think about it, too busy with graduating and not dying to care about things like whether his clothes still fit. Flash forward to a moment in the hospital when he was getting stitched up, when he noticed the way that his thighs curved inward from the wide point of his bent knees, and quietly thought _well_ , _shit_.

But then... what do you do? He'd broadened out, wider-shouldered and taller than Scott, and he _hated_ it, it felt like a lie, that he was bigger than a werewolf, bigger than his best friend. He's a fragile human; for all that he might like to be a Boyd or a Jackson, he's _not_ , and he can't reconcile his new size with who he knows he is, smart and fast and non-threatening.

He adds an extra hoodie, starts doing push-ups and sit-ups in his room at night, forces himself to choke down eggs and peanut butter. He doesn't want to be the weak link in the pack, doesn't want one of the wolves to be hurt defending his scrawny, defective ass.

It doesn't help, not really. If he eats too much, he throws it all back up. He devotes himself to his self-designed midnight circuit-training, but all it does is make him wiry, his joints and veins prominent in a weird way. He buys a belt, stops looking at himself in the bathroom mirror.

\--

Then there's Derek, and then there's them getting together.

It's a slow thing, inevitable and quiet, and it makes Stiles happy in a way he hasn't felt since... he's not sure when. It's a contented happiness, a kind he's not used to- not excitable, or obsessive, just present, and irrefutable. They ease into it, letting the tension between them spool out for a long time, and it's distracting, it's almost enough.

Derek lets him keep the lights off when they fuck, indulges his penchant for doing things under the secrecy of the covers, but he insists on touching Stiles all over, lays him out and worships him, hands tracing the lines of his body with adoration and approval until Stiles is hiccuping and clutching at Derek's shoulders. He lets Stiles burrow into his chest and hide, making himself small, but he takes to unzipping Stiles' hoodie and sliding it off his shoulders when they're inside and warm, smiling brilliantly into Stiles' eyes as he does it, curling his hands around Stiles' shoulders to bring him in close until he adjusts to the alarming sensation of air on his bare arms.

Derek finds Stiles' notebook of daily exercises and food counts, starts leaving little hand-drawn, blue-inked hearts, or sometimes cheap gold star stickers on the days where Stiles manages three actual meals. Derek stocks his house with a wide variety of food, heavy on the easily snacked-upon, the healthy, the enticing.

Derek will find him standing in front of the refrigerator, slumped in defeat, and wordlessly make him those creamy instant mashed potatoes, setting them in front of him when he's flopped into a chair at the table. Then Derek will sit there with a book, keeping him company while Stiles eats bite after bite, silently turning pages when Stiles has to stop and put his head down on the table for a while before he can continue.

Derek takes him out in the yard, plays catch with him. Lets Stiles run around and get sweaty and laugh, then pulls him into the shower and blow him until he's so exhausted he falls into bed without his nightly routine of exercises. Brings him french toast in bed with real butter, and feeds him bites of it until it's gone, then licks the taste of syrup out of his mouth.

–

In October, someone snaps a photo of them together; it's at Scott's birthday party, late in the afternoon. Derek's managed to peel Stiles out of his two over-layers, leaving him in a t-shirt and jeans. He's pressing against Derek's hand in the small of his back, standing up straight and unaware of the camera as they laugh into each other's faces, mouths wide and smiling.

Stiles looks at it for a long time. It doesn't look like him, but... it looks good. Like someone he wants to be. Like someone he can maybe get to.

He pins it to the fridge, smiles, and goes to find Derek.

 


End file.
